Amigas eroticas (or What the Cameras Didn't Capture)

It started when I saw you naked in the hotel bathroom,
I heard the water drop with urgency
anxious to glisten against your backside.
I walked towards you
to hand you your razor, as you nicely asked.
I approached the bathroom
wondering if the Grizzlies were capable of finding
that underdog fire inside them to beat
the San Antonio Spurs- at least one game.
You parted the curtain,
bent over, reached out for the razor with your left hand
perched your right one on the edge of the tub
while the water smacked off your ass
your hard nipples
waved hypnotically before me.
As the razor flowed from my hand to the floor
I imagined myself walking into the tub,
lifting you so you could hold onto the towel rack
that hung from the ceiling
placing your thighs on my shoulders
and you Cobraing your legs around my neck.
My breath constricted
I forced my tongue through your thighs
Buried it hot and deep inside your chocha,
drinking you como agua de coco right out of its shell
You tasting sweet
And being so wet, I could hear the ocean in your moans.
You begging "Please,
stop
I can't cum anymore,"
I try to stop myself
pull my face away from your pussy
but my lips…
my lips are too, locked
In a French kiss with your clit.
I blinked after 3 seconds and there you were
Still reaching out
For your razor.
I walked away, my pussy lips ruffled with excitement
And tried to concentrate on the sweaty men on TV.

Later that night we exchanged kisses, big ones
small ones, some loose others more involved
as my erection- cause women get hard too
swelled between my legs.
You slipped into your dreams
while wetness collected between my thighs.

The next day we talked and laughed
sometimes even held hands like sweethearts
dodged countless joggers while
languages from all over the world
buzzed and chirped about us.
Soon my longing for you got hotter n' stickier
than the D.C. humidity.

No expectations but overflowing
With anticipation I treaded through the hours

Then I saw you-
walking towards me
Dressed in black from head to toe
your nails the color of fire,
lips dark as plums,
your back bare and lickable
and feet strapped to those 3 inch leather hills,
and my pussy flowed like a cascada.
Right then and there I knew those heals would be digging into my back
later that night
along with U setting my "pent up energy free" con tus dedos
your piercing rubbing against my clit
imprinting your ganas on my arms, back and ass
I'd have your scent under my nails spread across my lips
And I'd finally get to braid my nakedness with yours.

(Image: Anna P. Sutton "I Surrender:)

Soldadera de Amor

It is what it is.
A disgrace
a mustache
a uni-brow
on a pretty face.
No matter how much
you consume her
you all can’t be Frida
La sufrida, vivio
su vida.
Subidas y bajadas
Haci es la vida.

Now that there
is someone….(ugh!)
some pain that you
no one
wants to feel
some pain that kills
some pain that makes you
wanna kill
yourself
quick like a leap
or slow like depression
of your soul
put yourself down
down
in a little black box
Aha! Hence my intrigue.
Not my destiny but my mind.
So not free to
so not free
Not expunged of those memories
I say I can’t remember but
como los cargo encima
como el peso del matrimonio
… some pain that makes you wanna kill.
But she didn’t
she didn’t kill herself!
She painted her imperfections
with perfection.
She paints her imperfections
with inflections
with inflections
with inflec-tionnnnnnnnn-ssssssss
Painting deliciousness
on tongues.

She paints her imperfections for me
letting me in to what got into her.
Her spinal column is pillar strong
I see it in her stance.
Her hugs
soft and secure like a tree
I stand with her
I kneel
at her side
near her spats.
Where she likes to see me.
She likes the view
so much so she built herself a tree house
to get a closer look.
Look!
A little piece of heaven.
heaven
haven
of my trust
haven of my lust
haven of my fears and
that big ol’ mean bitch I carried inside me
refusing to let me live
so I thrust that bitch, thrust her out
…almost all out
and into her
Mistress
/
Trust
/
Mistress
/
keeper of…
dominator of…
protector of…

War begets war?
Violence begets violence?
Not to the Soldaderas de amor
aquellas mujeres con el espiritu arañado
que han logrado despues de todo
todo todo aquel rollo…a amar a la vida
“Viva la Vida!”
vivio la vida hasta la muerte
even with her
spinal column\broken
collar bone\broken
ribs, pelvis\broken
her leg 11 times\breaks.
She breaks me down
puts me back together
Coyolxauhqui
moon goddess
surrounded by brothers
the stars
shattering the darkness of the sky
rays of life.

Reik my soul
raking my back
With her nails
/
flogger
\
single tail
…
a trail
3 tracks
mi cuero arañado
…bear claws
she gets beastly on me.
SOY beastia
Por su cuero
Staining my back red
inflaming my back
amor que arde.
Her ass on my head
muffling my thoughts
I feel her legs naked
or in cuero
around my neck.
Dayum!
She gives the best hugs.

War begets war violence begets violence
Search for perfection begets…
Aha! That’s a tricky question
cause I don’t show my imperfections
see
even after a drunken night,
hung-over depressed
waking up in last-night’s outfit
I feign togetherness.

I’ve never been a cheater
but man am I cheating life!
I should be treating life
like a book, a story I want to read
It’s not in our destiny
It’s in our mind.
Please don’t mind
me as I unwind
spiral down
this vortex
called life
it is what it is…

(@= C+A image/Anna P. Sutton: words/Claudia Rodriguez:)

your heart is my art

You know
you know
you a trip!
Hanging with you is visiting
the unfamiliar
not knowing where I’m going
not raising any expectations
and I don’t carry any baggage.
Each visit or ‘art play’ I rack up
air miles, nothing but smiles
as my CV grows
artistically and otherwise.
Don’t take offense but what we
are doing is bartering
each other’s skills to enhance our own.
You know my creative button is always on
you asking me to thread my words to your
installation pieces is nothing but a good reason
to write, so I write you Mistress
write the things that flow
to my head, those moments I feel in my heart.
Your heart, your heart
your heart is my art.
Don’t cry me a fucken river with that mental block shit
I only allow that to happen to my cock
I’d rather walk around all blue-balls
then black ball my art.
Your heart, your heart
your heart is my art.
The chemistry is there, careful with the sparks
our shit is toxic, not like bad
but sick…like when you get off a rollercoaster ride
or the way I feel when you ask me to
I get off
right.
I get off this writing.

I recently learned to embrace the term
“Cause I deserve it”.
But still I, I , I trip
I’m a tripper, I’m tripping over myself
trying to write about shit.
“my creative button is always turned on”
making, faking, stirring shit up
and our collabos keep me outta trouble,
But you say to me “you’re funny”
which = I’m cute
I wonder what “You’re trouble” = to
I’m no trouble at all
really easy, I am
just want you to be pleased
with me Mistress.
I know I’m a shit talker, forgive me
but do know I’m not full of shit
I’m as real as real art can get.

I can’t forget that she asked if you were my girl
my subject… the magical creature I paint
in my narratives, a unicorn of a woman
who knows how to make me trust
trust in love.
I spread my “social graffiti”
on your psyche
my words seep inside your head
like a Mistress gets inside my head
she, the first and last thought of my day
Could I think about her
more than I pray?
No way, that’s just the wrongest
thing to say…
Does it matter?
I can have faith in another.

I right you Mistress

She walks into the green room
Gives hugs all around then
like a sub who’s had enough collapses
in my arms.
My Mistress,
I can’t touch without permission
yet I took in her scent
pressed her into me,
her hot breaths erasing
anxiety, insecurity that stirred in me.
It was our night
our audience awaited
to see our play unfold
Yes leather, yes dominance, yes submission
and pain
she rummaged through her suitcase of accouterments
looking for that single tail, whip or knife to
tenderize my back with.
We’ve done this dance before
in private and on stage
underneath
the heat of the lights and collective silence of the audience
a deeper intimacy goes unnoticed.
Two pros engaged in creative exchange.
Yes play, but definitely procreating
without reservations
artistic instincts on high
as we set out to inspire
give you something to Tweet about.
She felt my vibe
she had to the way I did hers
the audience, numbed by our chemistry, did too.
Each come up to us one by one, smiles wider than
the black smile on Mistress’ face, eyes dilated
from witnessing artistic souls colliding on stage.

Mistresses come and go
bruises disappear
brandings fade
artistic exchange remains in my core.
She’s the first artist I’ve mixed intimacies with.
I am her first too,
first butch
first pretty boi, first papi
and want nothing more than to
make her smile and call me love
even if she puts me in a corner
silent, newbie voyeur watching
women’s bodies slither over
across each other,
turning the Moroccan
room upside down
to exchange kisses
caresses and finger fucks.
Lips on tits, asses and pussies
my lips dry from heavy breathing
as all I can do is watch and lust.
Shit I don’t give a fuck, put that plump ass on my head,
fuck her brains out on top of me,
ride that bitch hard, grind in my face
tie her to my waist as she sucks on my titties.
Ordered us to manhandle you, more fingers than you can count
crawling over you
till you put us to bed.

You are happy, pleased with the performance
pleased with our performance.
You remember, said so yourself…perfect
Like my ass in those leather pants
like your bondaged breasts
like your ass grinding on my cock
the one you grab so freely
making sure that like your
Slave, it’s at attention
for you.

You wanted me to write you a poem
so I right you Mistress
cause this will be the third…
Carve a cross
Across my chest
Or hit me
hit me back to heaven
through ceremonial play
I’ve discovered
the paint in the dark
the touch all that you eat
the blow beautiful notes side of you.
Ain’t no secret that I think you’re hot
I enjoyed just massaging you
unloosening the knots in your calves
warming up your ovaries,
knotting my fingers around your ass
pulling your toes
being spread over you
getting wetter
as imagined what it would feel
to fuck you
to burry my face in between your ass cheeks
and feast on it.
You said it best
“I love our relationship”
you inspire me
to be creative
to be nice
to be positive and loving
to be sensual and sexual

Enslave Me

Carve a cross

across my chest

I want you to be my Mistress.

Cross, cross,

crossed your heart and hoped to die

by my side my love

but all I FEEL is outside of your

gravitational force

a black whole

My Love.

My sister tells me que tengo a dolor en mi corazon

No, I tell her, I don’t love misery

She’s my muse

she looks soooo good in reds.

Besides

it’s a feeling just like the rest.

…across my chest

Pain is so different than misery-

Pain is like the cycle of water

pours down hard on you

evaporating with time.

Release

…it’s what it is

I want you to be my Mistress…

I need a coach in letting go.

If I already feel lost

what the fuck do I have to lose?

YOU

got my back Mistress.

Have it, have it

Take it

take it!

The more you give it

the more I take

-I can take it

but YOU will have it all.

Have the thumping

of your flogger

against my back

haunt me

days after days

Mistress

cause You have my back…

ass, legs, chest, sex.

Hit me with that sense of urgency

I’ll take it with that sense of Ohmmmm

Ohmmmm…. Ohmmmm

That sense of urgency?

Mindfulness

nothing else.

Who…is out there?

Who…cares?

All the cares

cares, I let go

And I’m there

hovering.

Your flogger

each hit

louder

in my ear

the breeze blows

out of me the wind goes

each thumping against my back

reverberates against my lungs.

Asphyxiation?

Look Ma, no hands.

I free fall into that subspace

Cross, cross my arms

across my chest.

Enjoy the free fall

hold it, hold it tight

make muscle memory.

Mindfulness-

nobody else

not even the stars that have

come out tonight

matter.

We’re all made out of matter.

Then why does shit, little shit matter?

Put me in that corner Mistress

put me in that space

There’s nothing but space

Subspace, subspace, subspace

Enslaved in the…

Enslaved by the…

subspace

created by your

delicious flogging

Mistress

Just let me continue to hypothesize

dramatize

hurt

As I get up again from every breakdown

Mistress

I promise to get up

Just let me remember you there

with me.

Paint a perfect picture

dance your brush against the shadows

Mistress

my Angel of Mercy

stroke on that canvas

stroke on me

enslave me

helpless and vulnerable

not hiding from you

no hiding behind an ego

I breath deeply in

ecstasy and agony

perfectly

filling up

the Black hole.

Mistress

you brought it to me

again…took my trust in your hands

Hurt me the way I like

to be.